


Utterly, Delightedly Haunted

by Queen_Sparklez



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, F/M, Fanfiction, Kim Seungmin-centric, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Minor Lee Felix/Seo Changbin, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-04-06 10:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Sparklez/pseuds/Queen_Sparklez
Summary: ~~Stray Kids Fanfiction~~~~Seungmin x Reader~~｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡His voice was soft as it caressed your ear, the simple intimacy of the feeling telling you more than whatever he could possibly say next."I know you're scared."Shivers ran down your spine at the implication of his words, at the memory of another boy, in another life. Warm fingers intertwined with yours and squeezed, a promise within itself."But I won't let you go. And we'll never be apart."Your blood ran cold. That was exactly what he had said.Right before he speared a knife through your middle and took his own life.





	1. Chapter 1

" _Y/N."_

_Your name was a soft murmur, whispered by the one you loved most, trusted the most. It was all you could do not to collapse into his familiar arms._

_"N-no!" you cried out, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. Despite the heavy pressure, a few tears leaked out to drip off your chin._

_Warm hands on your arms comforted and repulsed at the same time. Conflicting feelings of disgust and solace battled within you. "No," you whimpered, heartache tainting the word heavily and painting a bitter taste across your tongue._

_Fingers pried your hands away from your eyes and tilted your chin in the air. Dark spots danced in your vision as you peeked through a sea of tears to find cold eyes peering into yours. Your face crumpled pitifully as you stared back, unable to rip your eyes away._

_"Y/N," he said again, those cursed, empty eyes of his gazing deep into your soul. A shiver that chilled you to the bone shot down your spine like a bullet at the sound of your name on those lips._

This isn't the boy I fell in love with, _you told yourself. More tears fell to the ground as you wept in silence, any cries for help sticking in your throat, forming a thick lump you struggled to swallow against._ This isn't the boy I fell in love with. _No matter how many times you repeated the words, the phrase bouncing uselessly in the confines of your own mind, you couldn't bring yourself to believe them._

_And now, as he gripped your chin in his painful grasp and your own tears dripped onto his hands, your own heart tore in two. Each heartstring snapped, each cavity that had once known of a love more intimate than any imaginings ripped apart, each blood vessel and artery curled and mourned in the memory of the love it once held._

_The white curtains at your back rustled in the warm breeze floating in from the wide-open back door. It was far too pretty a night to hold such dreadful events, the waxing moon laughing down in beams. One such peal of laughter caught on the metallic blade of a knife. Your eyes widened in fear as his palm traveled from your chin to cover your mouth. The salty drops trailing down your cheeks fell faster now with the realization of what was truly happening._

_You struggled to free your hands from where they were trapped behind you, your wrists bound together with duct tape. You pleaded with him with horrified eyes as the color drained from your face, but his reflected no emotion or sign of faltering._

_"Y/N," he murmured, his chocolate eyes dropping to his hand pressed against your lips. "I must confess."_

_Your brow furrowed in pain as the blade of the knife drew a thin cut across your stomach, slicing your windbreaker and thin tank top open. A frightened whimper was muffled by his fingers, but you couldn't tell if he heard it over the wind that whistled louder and louder with each passing second._

_"I must confess I haven't been entirely faithful," he continued softly, drawing a second cut to form a cross, a dark, painful omen of what he intended to do to you. His voice was nonchalant, unbothered by the knife biting into your skin. Hot, thick blood seeped from the shallow wounds and stained your jeans crimson. "But I still love you."_

_A strangled scream erupted from your lips, muffled only by the hand pressed against your mouth, as he plunged the knife into your stomach. Agony flooded your senses like a tsunami crashing into a city: nothing at first and then slamming into every nerve with white-hot bursts. Blood welled up in your throat and you choked, unable to spit with his hand against your lips. You struggled to bring in iron-tainted air through your nose, blood flowing in rivulets from your nostrils._

_"I love you," he whispered softly, his sickeningly sweet breath brushing across your face like the fleeting touch of the Reaper._

_But one fleeting touch was all the harbinger of death needed._

_"And now, we will never be apart."_

_Blessedly, he freed your lips and wiped the blood from his hands with your windbreaker sleeve. You gasped for air that wouldn't grant you relief from the excruciating pain in your stomach that was rivaled only by the agony of your heart. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish on land as sirens pierced your ears, growing fainter as you faded in and out of consciousness. The knife gleamed in the moonlight filtering in from the window your back pressed for support as it slipped from his fingers, glistening with blood. You slumped to the ground when you could hold yourself up no longer. Blood streamed from the corners of your mouth, staining a scarlet halo around your head on the carpet. His hazy form as it fell, spattered with red, was the last thing you saw as darkness crept into the edges of your vision and took over._

★彡

A cold sweat shone on your skin in the sunlight piercing your bedroom window as you bolted upright in bed, breathing hard. Your hands unconsciously drifted to your stomach to make sure that your insides were staying where they should—inside.

You had the dream again. Your therapist would not be happy.

You sighed, running a hand over your face and wiping the sweat from your forehead with the corner of your coverlet. You struggled to take deep, even breaths, trying to slow your racing heart. _I'm still alive_ , you reminded yourself. _I'm okay_.

You yelped in fear when a splitting growl burst from your body, followed by a sharp pain in your stomach. You smacked yourself lightly on the cheek for spooking so easily at the sound of your own hunger. The corners of your lips upturned softly at the fixed routine of everything as you forced yourself from the intoxicating hold of your bed sheets and shrugged a too-big sweater over your sleep tank and shorts.

Your smile melted like ice on a hot day when you realized that today was, indeed, a Saturday. You huffed in disappointment. You didn't need to check your laptop for any assignments from your classes; you'd already done everything over the past week. None of your professors gave very much work on the first week of college, anyway. You rubbed the dark circles under your eyes; your insomnia was worsening by the day, helped along by your bad habits of filling every moment awake with work.

You stretched, perching on the edge of your bed. Saturdays were awful. It was on days like these, that you were alone and without anything keeping your mind focused and sufficiently occupied, that the darkness crept in. It was always there, a tide of depression held back by a splintering dam whose widening cracks were crammed with work and sheer force of will. It was a year ago that your schizophrenic ex-boyfriend broke into your house and tried to murder you with your own kitchen knife, but you were still haunted by the memory of the person you loved most in the world spilling your blood. The police told you he had committed suicide as soon as he thought you were dead. The paramedics managed to save you, but they couldn't save him from a slit throat.

You shook your head once, shooing any unwanted thoughts from your mind. It did no good to dwell on past events that you had no power to change, or so your therapist told you. Your phone pinged from your nightstand, and you reached out with shaking fingers. You curled your hand into a fist to stop the tremors and snatched the phone off the table with your other hand. You squinted at the display, the small words printed across the screen warming your stomach with relief.

_Therapist 11:00 AM._

You flopped back onto your bed in happiness. A quick glance at your phone screen told you that you only had an hour to get ready and arrive at the office. You jumped out of the bed you had just flung yourself onto and flew around your dorm, cramming a granola bar into your mouth and throwing your things into your purse.

You were out the door before your obnoxiously-loud dorm clock ticked 10:45. You hurried down the hall to the elevator, neatly sidestepping a student sleeping on the floor and nearly jamming the down button with the force with which you hit it. You all but leaped into the elevator when the sleek, metallic doors parted, startling the other student already on his way down. Thankfully, the boy had already pushed the ground floor button, and you tried to squeeze yourself into the farthest corner from your antsy elevator-mate. Though it had gotten better tremendously, you were still wary of new people, especially men, and placing your trust in others.

The boy cocked an eyebrow at your antics.

"I don't bite, I promise," the boy grinned toothily, his softly angled eyes nearly disappearing with the action. He ran a hand through his dark hair, run through with curious lighter streaks. He wore a half-unbuttoned white collared shirt halfway tucked into his khaki shorts and a dark jacket hung from one elbow. A comb was clutched in his hand, but his tangled mahogany locks were testament enough that the comb had yet to touch his head.

Even with the messy bed head and rumpled clothes, you had to admit that he was kind of beautiful.

Tugging the comb through his knotted hair, he raised his other eyebrow at the single nod you offered him. "You know, usually when I share an elevator with a girl, I have to pry her away from me, but I don't seem to have that problem with you."

You smiled softly, out of politeness more than amusement. "I'm Y/N," you murmured, wanting more than anything the doors to open again so you could leave the stifling, awkward atmosphere settling over the two of you.

"I'm Seungmin," the boy responded in kind. The elevator doors finally yawned open to reveal an uncrowded lobby, and Seungmin's features melted into what looked like dread. You furrowed your brow as his cheeks glowed red suddenly, the flush spreading to his ears and neck in splotchy patches.

"What is it?" you asked tentatively, still wary of this strange, good-looking boy.

Seungmin did his best to smirk, but the effort backfired horribly; he looked as if he were going to choke on something. You resisted the sudden grin threatening to spring to your lips. He looked at his feet, bashful, and tugged fruitlessly on the comb that wasn't budging from a clump of hair. Your lips parted to form an _o_ of realization.

"It's... stuck," Seungmin muttered weakly. He glanced at you from under a curtain of dark eyelashes, a silent plea for help. "I've got to be somewhere."

You smiled inwardly at his pitiful predicament, but your expression remained cool, unruffled. "I can try to get it out," you offered, snatching a glimpse of your watch. A twinge of worry settled in your gut and creased your brow as you reached to work his comb out of his tangled shock of hair. His mouth curved into a grateful grin as he bent over so you could see properly.

After little more than a minute of hard work and grunts of frustration from the both of you, you emerged from his mass of fluffy hair victorious, his comb clutched in your fist. With rushed movements, hyperaware of the time, you dragged his comb through his remaining locks without managing to get it stuck again. Seungmin watched you, surprised, as you shoved the comb into his chest and smoothed his hastily styled hair with your hand.

"Here's your comb, you're welcome, bye!" you all but shouted over your shoulder as you shot off into the lobby like a bullet, tearing through the front doors that spit you out on a busy sidewalk in the middle of the bustling city you called home.

"Thank you!" Seungmin yelled after you as he stuffed the comb in his breast pocket and ran after you, hot on your heels. He buttoned his shirt as he ran, the back of it fluttering in the wind.

You stole a glance behind you, dread settling in your stomach as you did. He was following you, you were sure of it.

Your mind raced to every bad conclusion it could think of. You pushed off the ground harder and sped along the walk, barely dodging an arm here and a baby stroller there.You had to lose him. You had to.

Panic dripped into your limbs and mind. A burst of adrenaline-fueled-fright began a mad dash; people stared and stumbled out of your way as your breath came and went in almost painful pants.

You skidded to a halt in front of your therapist's office building with a few minutes to spare and pushed through the doors as nonchalantly as you could manage, approaching the front desk and signing your name on the check-in sheet. Retreating to a corner of the room, you placed yourself in the back corner, watching the front doors with a careful eye.

A head of wild brown hair masked a slightly turned away face that appeared on the opposite side of a glass window, and you tensed. Just before the person—a boy, judging by his clothes and gait—pushed open the doors, your name was called by a small intern. You rose, but right before you left the lobby, you casted one last glance over your shoulder. The boy was now bent over the sign-in sheet, his hair concealing his features as it dipped into his face and a long, dark coat concealing his clothes. A wave of fear shot through your chest like an icy slap, but you carefully painted a blank expression across your face.

The intern led you to your therapist's room needlessly and left you with him alone. You released a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding and your features slipping into relief. You plopped into an overstuffed armchair ungracefully.

Your therapist smiled, adjusting his circular glasses on his nose. "That happy to see me?" he laughed, his voice more comforting than any pill prescribed to me.

"Woojin Oppa," you grinned.

The man in front of you was clad in a simple white turtleneck and a dark overcoat, his gold-framed glasses everpresent on his face. He was stretched in a comfortable position in the high-backed chair directly across from you, his legs crossed in the way men's legs seemed to automatically assume whenever they sat. He almost looked too young to be celebrating his two-year anniversary of working at this office next week, but he had the wisdom of a man three times his age—or so he claimed. On certain points, you couldn't help but agree.

"So," Woojin began, flipping through a couple of notes on the clipboard in his hands and setting it aside, "we are going to try something different today."

You raised your eyebrows, trying not to blanch at the idea of different. "What is it?" you asked tentatively, remembering the last time you and Woojin tried "something different". You went home with shaving cream in your hair and he was left with a bruised cheekbone. Needless to say, you weren't overly eager at the prospect of something new.

Woojin laughed loudly, following your thought path. "I did not make a pit stop at Walgreens this morning to pick up shaving cream, unfortunately, so you can calm down," he reassured you, brushing a hand across your knee in amusement.

Your lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, and he took that as a sign of an open mind. "I was thinking we begin joint therapy," he announced with a flourish of his hands. Your stomach sank.

"I'm not that old yet, Woojin," you tittered nervously, hoping he meant actual joint therapy and not what you suspected he meant. You glanced sidelong at the empty chair next to yours, a lump lodging itself in your throat.

"Oh no, no, no, that not what I meant!" he sputtered, his face and neck reddening with embarrassment. "No, you're perfectly young and healthy—I think—not that you don't look young and healthy, you look great, fantastic even—oh God, what am I saying—"

Both yours and Woojin's faces largely resembled cherry tomatoes with floofs of hair on top as you stared at each other, shocked. The tips of your ears burned, and you loosened your ponytail so your hair just covered them. "Uh-uh, I—" you stuttered, your face growing a deeper shade of scarlet as each failed sentence left your mouth.

The door opened without warning, and your heart lept to your throat in fear as you and Woojin twisted in your seats to watch the door, a mortified look in the eyes of both of you. Your imagination ran rampant, your dead ex peeling away from the walls, a knife dripping crimson clutched in his fist. Monsters burst into the room and broke through the window, sharp elongated teeth glinting in the weak sunlight filtering in through the blinds. A feeble cry of protest escaped your lips.

Instead of my vivid imaginings, a familiar face popped out from behind the door, his cheerful expression dissolving into a nervous one at the sight of the scarlet blooming across the two of your faces. Seungmin furrowed his brow in confusion. "Am I—am I interrupting something?" he asked lowly, pointing behind him to the empty hall he had just emerged from. "Because I can leave—"

"Um, no," Woojin cut in, the red draining from his face. He composed himself, and you took the chance to do the same, plastering a look of innocence onto your features. "You may have a seat." Turning to me, he said with none of the trepidation that had been there before, " _This_ is joint therapy."

 


	2. Chapter 2

You stared at Seungmin with wide eyes. Fear curdled in your stomach, twisting painfully.

"Hey, stranger," he said with a grin, reaching out to touch your shoulder lightly. You flinched away from him and shrank back into your chair, hoping you would melt into the cushions.

"H-hi," you stuttered, wishing more than anything that you could just disappear. Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion once more.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice seeming to deepen with concern.

You threw a frantic look at Woojin. He stared back, a question glinting in his dark eyes. You blinked at him, willing him to understand that you couldn't be in the same room as Seungmin.

Rationally, you knew Seungmin most likely wasn't on a personal mission to finish what your ex had begun, but your pattering heart stubbornly refused to see reason and the coil of fright in your gut refused to loosen.

Woojin clearing his throat, opting to look past your terrified state and zeroing in on Seungmin. "You two have met before?" he asked Seungmin, drawing Seungmin's attention away from you. Seungmin gave you one last worried glance before focusing on Woojin; you offered Woojin a small, grateful smile.

"This morning, actually," Seungmin told him, amusement sparkling in his eyes and a light blush dusting across his cheeks. "I had a comb stuck in my hair, and Y/N helped me get it out. We were both heading to the same appointment, it seems." He threw what you guessed was supposed to be a charming grin at you for the second time that day.

You couldn't bring yourself to smile back.

Woojin looked at you, an unreadable expression pasted over his features. You had grown to recognize it as his professional, you-can-tell-me-you-killed-someone-and-I-won't-flinch face. "You haven't seen each other since?"

"Nope," Seungmin said, popping the p, despite Woojin's directing the question at you. You shook your head mutely, confirming Seungmin's reply. You were thankful that Seungmin kept answering Woojin's questions, even though you knew it wasn't for your sake.

"So," Woojin began, picking up his clipboard and flicking through it once more, "let's begin with a game."

★彡

After what felt like a century of "get to know you" games—that had subtly avoided any topic having to do with mental illness, you'd noticed—Woojin had freed you and Seungmin to return to your respective dorms.

You knew that he'd played baseball when he was younger and all throughout middle school, you knew he went to the same college as you, you knew he had an older sister, and you knew he loved eggs with a passion that genuinely scared you, but somehow you didn't know why he was taking therapy.

You were grateful to Woojin that he didn't say anything that hinted at your trauma or condition, and you suspected Seungmin felt the same. You didn't want to ask, because, well, manners, but the question ate away at your mind. You sucked your lip into your mouth, worrying your lip with your teeth, as Seungmin's arm brushed yours, sending cold shivers down your spine.

 _One foot in front of the other_ , you told yourself as you did your best to ignore the brunet matching you step-for-step, shortening his pace to match yours. _One foot in front of the other_.

"What's your major?" Seungmin asked, and your heart nearly skipped at beat at his words. Fear refused to leave your body, adrenaline at the ready, preparing you for anything. You did your best to maintain a steady breathing rate, determined not to show him how fast your heart pulsed beneath your skin.

You gave yourself a moment to fix your almost breathless state before answering. "I haven't decided yet," you said slowly. You mentally congratulated yourself on the lack of breathiness in your words.

"Ah," Seungmin said, letting the words hang between you for a beat. You guessed that he was waiting for you to ask him what his major was. You didn't. "I don't have a major, either, but I'm seriously considering taking a music class."

You looked up at him in surprise, your ponytail swishing a wide arc in the air with the sudden movement. "Music?" you asked before you could stop yourself. "Why?"

Seungmin grinned at your sudden interest. "I just want to try it. Maybe it'll be my minor."

"You're not serious about it?" you prodded, surprising yourself with the amount of curiosity the question bore.

"Not really," Seungmin admitted, almost sheepishly. "I just want to see if I'm any good at it, or if I even like it. I'm not serious about anything right now, to be honest, except maybe video games." He looked at you sidelong, waiting for you to laugh.

You didn't. 

Seeming unsatisfied with your reaction, he continued. "I guess I'm only attending classes at all because it's expected of me."

Your eyes softened despite your determination to not let him appeal to you. The corners of your lips tugged into a small smile as you watched hhim tip his head at a stranger about your age. Seungmin really was attractive, you noticed not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

Seungmin grabbed your arm suddenly and you jerked away on instinct, the smile dropping from your mouth and dread twisting your stomach into a tight swirl of panic. Seungmin narrowly avoided a fist to the face as he ducked back. His eyes were incredulous as he rose to his full height, towering over your small frame.

"What on earth was that for?" Seungmin demanded, pressing a hand to the place I almost punched. "If I hadn't taken a self-defense course, I'd have a wicked black eye right now."

"I'm so sorry!" You swore at your stupid reflex when all he had done was take your wrist. Your hands fluttered over him in a distressed manner. "Did I hit you anywhere else?" Your whole reaction had been a blur, so you couldn't be sure.

Seungmin looked at you in surprise. "No," was all he said, astonishment still lingering in his eyes as he stared at you. You flicked your eyes to your feet, unable to face him as humiliation colored your features. You could feel the hot blood rushing to your face, and it was all you could do not to smack yourself on the cheek for getting so easily flustered.

Seungmin cleared his throat, bringing your attention to him. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to get coffee," he said, facing straight ahead but studying you out of the corner of his eye. You noticed a light red coloring to his cheeks, but a brisk, cold wind had just sprung up so you attested his sudden flush to getting a faceful of chilly air.

You struggled to hold back a wild blush at his implied question. "It's just past noon. You want coffee this late in the day?" you asked skeptically, turning to pretend to examine the small coffee shop the two of you stood by in order to mask the burning tips of your ears.

Seungmin glanced at you sidelong, appearing offended. "It is never too late for coffee, Y/N."

★彡

"I'll pay for mine," you told Seungmin for the umpteenth time, but he was having none of it.

"I never make girls pay. It's a policy of mine," Seungmin shot back, his words light but his tone firm.

"How many girls has that worked on?" you scoffed, crossing your arms.

"It only needs to work on you," he winked. Annoyance boiled to the surface at how effortless that line had seemed even as your stomach flipped. This couldn't be the same guy that had gotten his comb stuck in his hair.

You huffed as the barista looked between the two of you, seeming concerned. "Um, sir? Miss? You're holding up the line."

Appearing to ignore the poor girl, Seungmin leaned back against the counter and shoved his hands into his pockets. "We've got all day, love."

 _No, we really don't_ , you thought as the barista glared daggers into Seungmin's back. _That lady seems ready to throw us back outside_.

Your scowl deepened as you dug in your purse, determined to come up with your credit card before Seungmin could. With your head ducked, you heard a beep and a masculine "thank you". You straightened so quickly the motion seemed jerky, a glare ready in your eyes.

 _Aim_.

_Fire._

You glowered at Seungmin's back with enough intensity to evaporate iron, let alone burn a human to a crisp. "Too slow," he teased, leading you to a table for two in the far corner but careful not to touch your skin. You'd bet anything he was trying to avoid a repeat of earlier.

"You really didn't have to pay for mine, you know," you said, guilt settling in your chest like a heavy weight as you watched him shrug off his coat and place it on the back of his chair.

"Yes, I did," Seungmin insisted, twirling his credit card in his fingers before tucking it away in his wallet. You parted your lips to shoot back some reason or another why he really _didn't_ have to, but you were promptly shushed by the boy across from you. "Don't argue and just accept it the gift. I might let you pay next time if it means that much to you to throw away ten bucks for two overpriced coffees."

Next time? This boy had another thing coming if he thought this was happening again. You hadn't been here for ten minutes and you were already struggling to rein in your temper.

"I—" you started to say, but you were cut off by a "Two coffees for Seungmin" from the barista behind you. Instead of another argument, you settled for a scowl as you rose to get your drinks. You all but slammed his in front of him and plopped into your chair, sticking the straw of your mocha frappe between your lips and sucking angrily. Seungmin watched you with an amused expression as he wrapped his hands around his cup.

"You can hardly call that coffee, you know," he said, gesturing to your mound of chocolate sauce and whipped cream.You gaped at him, an injured look in your eyes.

"This is coffee," you defended, cradling your beloved chocolate monstrosity in your hands and tucking it close to your chest. You noticed Seungmin's eyes float down to stare before you snapped your fingers, your cheeks pinking. "My face is up here," you reminded him with what you hoped was a controlled, annoyed tone.

"Ah," Seungmin gulped, yanking his gaze away as a crimson flush spread across his cheeks. "Sorry, I, ah, was trying to read the label."

You fought the urge to raise your eyebrows at his obvious attempt at lying and tugged your sweater farther up to rest just below the curve of your neck so it hid the small amount of cleavage exposed. You thought you saw a flash of disappointment in Seungmin's eyes, but you couldn't be sure. _Testosterone_ , you thought disgustedly.

Your vision went white as something occured to you that hadn't before. _This wasn't a date, was it?_

 _No, of course not_ , you reasoned with yourself. The two of you had only met this morning, after all. Besides, with a face like his, despite his mental shortcomings, he was almost certain to have a girlfriend. The boy himself had said that he usually had to "pry girls away" from his body. You doubted he was lying.

Catching yourself admiring the biceps his short-sleeved dress shirt revealed, you dropped your gaze immediately. You really were no better than he was. Thankfully, Seungmin was still looking anywhere but you so he couldn't see your blush deepen.

"So, uh, Seungmin," you said, trying to break the awkward silence settling over the two of you like a thick, stifling blanket. "You said you took a self-defense course?"

Seungmin's eyes lit up. "Yeah, when I was sixteen. It wasn't really in-depth or anything, but it taught me how to defend myself if I ever need to." He shrugged his shoulders, raising the cup in his hands to his lips and taking a small sip.

"Why?" At Seungmin's cocked eyebrow, you hurried to rephrase. "Did you just think it was cool or something?"

"Too many girls," he grinned, spinning his cup in his hands in a circle on the lacquered wood tabletop. You noticed distantly that it matched his hair. Rolling your eyes at his words, you sipped at your own coffee, a ghost of a smile dancing along the edges of your mouth. "What about you?" he asked. "That punch was way too natural for you to not have taken some sort of class."

You had, in fact. In order to help you overcome the fear that you could be killed at any moment by any male that came within twenty feet of you, Woojin had recommended you take a class two months after the catastrophe that was your ex. But, of course, you couldn't tell Seungmin that. So "Yeah, I did" was what you deemed an acceptable answer; it didn't relay anything you wouldn't want him to know nor anything false.

"Why?" Seungmin asked, curiosity shining brightly in his eyes as he drained the last dregs from his cup.

Your heart thumped in your chest as you dropped your eyes to your coffee. You bit your lip nervously, unwilling to reply. When you didn't give an answer, Seungmin supplied one for you: "Too many boys?" You looked back up at him as your lips quirked into a reluctant smile, pure and genuine.

"Something like that," you grinned.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola. Just wanted to tell you that I'm not (trying to be) dramatic with the "Seungmin's gonna kill me" and "I'm so scared" yadda yadda yadda. Y/N has experienced trauma because of her last boyfriend (as evidenced by the dream). If you pay close enough attention, you can tell that she's showing symptoms of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). You'll notice that she hates leaving any doors open (because of the door her ex left open when he broke into her house), using any type of kitchen knife (she will buy already-cut meats at the store in one scene), experiences mood swings, has flashbacks (the nightmare in the beginning), can develop paranoia, etc, etc. Just read really closely and you might find other symptoms and stuff relating to PTSD. 
> 
> Shout at me if I screw anything up. I've been known to do that.
> 
> "But Sparky," you say, worry in your eyes. "Seungmin went to the same appointment as Y/N. Does he also have PTSD or some mental illness?"
> 
> Time will tell, my friends. Time will tell. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Sorry for making your eyes bleed.


	3. Chapter 3

The walk back to the dorm building was one in silence. Neither you nor Seungmin knew quite what to say, so you let a companionable silence stretch between the two of you. As you walked through the disheveled lobby together, an obviously hungover student staggered out of the elevator, pausing only to whistle at the two of you.

Seungmin gave him the finger.

You had to stifle the amused peal of laughter threatening to spill from your lips as you and Seungmin climbed into the elevator. It's silvery insides still carried the sharp, familiar tang of alcohol.

When Seungmin pushed the button for the floor below yours, you furrowed your brow. "I thought you were a sophomore?" you said, confusion etched across your features. He'd come from one of the floors above yours if you remembered correctly; he had already been in the elevator this morning when you'd stumbled in. All the floors above you were allotted to seniors, sophomores, and juniors, in no particular order. You stayed on the second freshman floor.

"Ah, no," Seungmin said, growing shy suddenly, "I was visiting my friend's dorm."

"At ten o'clock in the morning?" you said skeptically. You gasped without warning, throwing a hand out as if to steady yourself. Seungmin's eyes met yours with a questioning look. "You're not..." You trailed off, knowing he'd ask you what you were going to say.

You were correct. "What is it?" Seungmin demanded.

"Oh, nothing, it's just... you're not a morning person, are you?" you asked slowly, obvious disgust coloring your tone.

Seungmin reeled back. "Me? A morning person?" Leaning close to you, he whispered dramatically, "I'd rather die."

You did your best not to flinch away from him; you were mostly successful. Sensing your discomfort, Seungmin pulled away to return where he stood before, a few feet away from you, still with that stupid grin on his stupid face. "Just kidding. I love the mornings. Sunrises are always so beautiful."

His words on the glory of sunrises and how much better they were than sunsets fell on deaf ears as your mood twisted darkly. The corners of your lips downturned to shape a slight frown as a sudden wave of anger simmered beneath the surface of your skin.

"What is it?" Seungmin asked cautiously, noticing your sudden change in expression. His smile fell off his lips like dust in the wind as his eyes searched yours for a hint.

You didn't know what was wrong, either; all you could feel was the abrupt impulse to feel a nose break underneath your fist. Opting for the more peaceful and less bloody choice, you decided to shrug in response. "I don't know," you resisted the inexplicable urge to snap.

Choosing not to push, Seungmin nodded. "I can get like that, too, sometimes. You're feeling just fine, and then bam, you're sad or angry or whatever."

A surge of anger swelled at his words, but you tamped it down to a trickle with sponges of patience. Even so, it was like trying to dry a river using only bath towels. You forced yourself to apologize for your mood swing. "I'm sorry," you said through gritted teeth as a sharp pain pierced your abdomen.

You knew it was only period cramps, but just like that, you were back.

_He pulled the knife from your stomach as carefully as pulling a piece of lint off a lover's shirt, with lingering touches and locked eyes. Each brush of his fingers across the open flaps of your stomach sent shivers of repulsion down your spine and each puff of his breath that ghosted across your skin raised the hairs on the back of your neck. He bent to glide his lips over the place where your neck flowed into your shoulder, his hair caressing the length of your throat. A smear of scarlet dusted across the sharp angle of your collarbone when he rose, his features melting into a face you'd come to know just recently. The crescent of his mouth grew more pronounced, the slant of his eyes lengthened, the bridge of his nose dipped, and the curve of his jawline sharpened to reveal—_

"Seungmin?"

You blinked up at a new boy with wild blond hair standing between the now parted elevator doors from your place on the floor. Hands you hadn't noticed before withdrew from your cheek and shoulder and a form crouched next to you rose hastily. You wanted to ask how you got onto the floor, but before the sounds could even rise to your throat, words burst from Seungmin.

"I wasn't molesting her, I swear!"

A shocked silence zapped between the three of you, the new boy staring at Seungmin in surprise, his eyebrows raised. You gaped, your eyes wide.

"I should hope not," the blond said finally. "Minho would beat you senseless."

A shared look between the two boys indicated a strong friendship, and you looked away. You hissed through your teeth as a second wave of pain stabbed into your consciousness, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth and biting until you tasted blood. Curling your arms around your waist, you pressed into your stomach with your fingers with enough force to bruise. A low, guttural moan escaped your lips, a sound paling in comparison to the extent of your distress.

To your horror, both Seungmin and the blond whipped their heads to watch as you rocked back and forth on the hard ground like a child, tears of frustration leaking from your eyes. The elevator doors began to close, but the blond waved a hand in front of the sensors impatiently; they slid back with an unoiled squeak.

"Y/N?" Seungmin asked gently, returning to his crouch and placing a hesitant hand on your arm. He watched you with those puppy-dog eyes of his as you shoved your phone into his hand, unlocked via your fingerprint.

"Call Han Ji-Jisung," you stuttered, your chest heaving great, uneven breaths.

"Jisung," Seungmin repeated absentmindedly, scrolling through your contacts before appearing to find the right one. He held the phone to his ear, sending you nervous glances, as Jisung picked up with a "What?" you could hear from your place on the floor. "Um, is this Jisung?" Seungmin squeaked, his voice rising higher with worry.

Jisung's voice calmed to a softer volume and you could no longer make out his words. With the rate the color was draining from Seungmin's features, you guessed Jisung was chewing the poor boy out. Seungmin interrupted Jisung's indecipherable chatter with a short but effective "Y/N is about to pass out". A few more words were exchanged between the two as the blond turned his attention to you.

"I'm Lee Felix, Seungmin's roommate," the boy said after a moment. You waved a hand in acknowledgment, in too much pain to say much of anything. "Y/N, right?"

You offered him a small nod in answer, digging your nails into your shirt and gripping your waist tightly. The blood rushing in your ears blocked out much of what Felix said next, but you caught his offer to carry you.

Your mouth fell open in surprise, but you quickly snapped it shut. Before you could respond, he rambled on in what came across as an attempt at smoothing his words over: "I was just wondering because you're obviously in pain, but it's fine if you want to just walk by yourself, I get that. I'm not trying to be derogative or anything, I just—"

"It's fine," you cut him off, clenching your teeth so hard that a dull ache began to hum along your jawline. You tried not to remember the feel of your ex's fingertips running across the same curve. "I can walk."

Exactly thirty seconds later, you were still on the ground, Seungmin was off the phone with Jisung, your hand was clasped in Felix's, and an imaginary knife buried itself in your gut every time you tried to scramble to your feet. You fought the urge to rip away from both boys as Seungmin looped one arm around your shoulders to support you. Black spots danced in your vision as he curled his other arm under your knees and lifted abruptly.

You squealed in surprise and pain as the movement jolted the muscles cramping in your lower back. "How ca-can you car-carry me with tho-those noodle arms?" you stuttered, disbelief mixing with the pain pasted across your features. One of your hands flew up to cup Seungmin's neck, your fingers threading through his hair tightly, and the other gripped the fabric of his shirt; both hands held on for dear life.

Felix barked out a short laugh as Seungmin pretended to glare at you. "I'll wait for the next elevator," Felix said, already stepping back. "You two go on ahead." A sigh of relief escaped your lips when the elevator doors closed.

The knot in your chest loosened, then tightened as you grew hyperaware of every place Seungmin's arm's touched your body. You felt your heart beginning to beat double time, pounding against your ribcage like the Greeks pounding on the gates of Troy. Your breath came and went in short gasps as your mind struggled to hold back the tide of unwanted memories and emotions. The dam splintered, and the Trojan horse let itself in.

 _You crouched on the floor in your old house, bleeding out from your stomach as your ex grinned at you maniacally, his throat hanging open. Blood roared in your ears as you screamed, terrified to be back here, trapped within the cage of your mind and bound by the ties of horror._ This isn't real _, Woojin's voice in the back of your mind reminded you._ There's nothing to be afraid of. He's dead.

_But your racing heart refused to see reason._

_Where you knew Seungmin's arms had been, ropes sprang up and tightened around you, leaving rope burns in crisscrossing lines across your skin. Blood dribbled from your ex's lips as he slid a ring onto your finger, the embedded diamonds winking in the moonlight filtering in from the window at your back. Flecks of blood decorated the gems. The ring twisted on your finger before stilling, and pain ripped through your hand like a rock through a glass window. Your vision swimming with tears, you were horrified to see half-inch spikes decorating the surface of the ring, spikes that no doubt buried themselves in the bone of your finger._

_"Darling..." he hissed, drawing a bloody finger across your cheek. A smear of scarlet ran from your cheekbone to the corner of your mouth._ _"How I've waited for this day."_

You blinked and suddenly you were back in the elevator, cradled in Seungmin's arms. "Y/N?" he asked, his voice trembling, as you clawed at the air.

You dropped your hands, too frightened to be embarrassed. Your eyes drifted shut and you went limp in Seungmin's arms, your head lolling back as the elevator came to a stop and the doors peeled away. You heard a faint voice calling your name, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. You felt your body being exchanged from one person to another and a scarcely audible "I'm here, baby" floated into your ears before you slipped into unconsciousness.

★彡

You came to in your dorm, all the lights off and a heating pad pressed to your stomach. A head of fluffy blond hair was settled on the blankets, pillowed by an arm, and a hand rested in yours limply. You smiled softly at the boy sleeping soundly at your side, seated into an armchair drawn up to the side of your bed. Jisung.

Allowing your gaze to rise from him, you noticed two pairs of shoes lying haphazardly in the middle of the floor and your and Jisung's socked feet. You glared at the back of his head for tossing shoes wherever he pleased.

The door to your dorm unlocked with a loud click in the otherwise silent room, and you jerked your head up to watch Woojin let himself in, cradling a small box. You grinned at him, nodding at the box in his hands. "Chicken?"

"Chicken," Woojin confirmed, raising the grease-stained box above his head and twirling before dropping it unceremoniously on the kitchen table. "From your favorite place."

You raised your eyebrows. "I didn't know I have a favorite place to eat chicken."

Woojin flushed. "Well, from where should be your favorite place." His eyes became dreamy with a far-off look as he pressed a hand to his heart. "The breading is so good with just the right amount of seasoning and crispiness, and the chicken just falls right off the bone. I've honestly never had anything so good in my life. It's like they cook the chicken with drugs to make you keep coming ba—" He broke off as he noticed your amused expression, looking sheepish. "Sorry."

"Oh no, don't stop on account of me. I'll leave if you want a moment alone with your box of chicken," you offered, grinning despite yourself.

Woojin huffed at you. "Hardy-har. If you can wake up Sleeping Beauty over there, I bought enough chicken for three civilized people." He cleared his throat. "But unfortunately for you and 'Sung, I do not consider myself civilized so I may just eat all of this myself."

You laughed lightly at that, pulling the heating pad away from your abdomen and setting it aside. "Jisung," you murmured, shaking the boy sleeping on with soft movements. His breathing hitched as you shook him once more, harder this time. "Jisung!"

"What?" he muttered shifting slightly in his chair. "Let me sleep if no one died." After a pause, he added, "No one important, at least."

Rolling your eyes, you poked his shoulder twice. "Woojin brought chicken."

Jisung's nose twitched. "Chicken, you say?" He peeked one eye open to stare at you.

"Yes, 'Sung. Chicken." You drew out the last word, one syllable at a time, and Jisung opened his other eye.

"You'd better get your squirrel butt over here, Han, before I eat all the food," Woojin called from his seat at the table, the words muffled. Glancing over to Woojin, your eyes were met with an opened box and crumbs scattered all over the tabletop. He held a drumstick in each hand as he tried to fit a second in his right fist while munching on the one in his left. His eyes rolled back into his head every time he took a bite. "Foodgasm," he moaned, spraying breadcrumbs all over your kitchen.

You held your head in your hands.

You were definitely making him vacuum.

You all but shoved Jisung's head off your lap and scrambled to your feet. You marched into your kitchenette to snatch the box of fried heaven away from Woojin's grasp. You bumped his right hand in the process, and the third and fourth drumstick he held in that hand toppled back into the box. You looked at him in disbelief. "How on earth did you manage to fit four chicken legs in one hand?" you asked, incredulous.

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," was all Woojin said as he stretched to reclaim his fallen comrades. You held the box away from him again. "I need more than two pieces in my hands at all times! This is against the laws of eating chicken!" he whined, reaching once more.

"Finish the ones you have," you giggled, dancing away from him. You bumped into a hard chest, and suddenly the box was whisked from your hands. "Hey!" you complained. "I haven't gotten a piece yet!"

Jisung smirked at you, tucking the box close to his chest. _He's going to get grease stains on his white shirt_ , you thought distantly. "You don't need the calories," he teased.

You sat back on your heels, offended. "You don't, either!" you argued before grabbing for the box again. While the two of you bickered, neither of you noticed Woojin creeping up behind Jisung. Woojin kicked the back of Jisung's knees and Jisung went down with a startled yelp. Woojin snatched the box of chicken out of the air as it tumbled dangerously close to the ground.

"Suckers!" he gloated as he shoved five pieces of chicken in one hand. He returned the box to you, leaving the bone of a piece he'd already devoured inside. You leveled a half-hearted glare at the man dancing around your kitchenette with six pieces of chicken total.

You were starting to think that Woojin's chicken restaurant _did_ put drugs in their food.

You looked down to see Jisung sitting on the floor, nibbling on a drumstick he'd snagged when he'd fallen. "You were right, Woojin-ah, this chicken is delicious," he said, his cheeks crammed with food. Woojin hummed in agreement, licking grease off his fingers.

You poked Jisung's face. "You're lucky he's too busy eating to notice you didn't use an honorific." Jisung winked at you, tapping the finger still pressing into his cheek.

"I _am_ lucky," he said with a smile that put the sun to shame.

★彡

The lighthearted atmosphere of earlier had evaporated completely, as well as the box of chicken. You had brought out an untouched cheesecake you'd baked two days ago, and less than half remained. You would've thought Woojin would have been full after twelve drumsticks, but he'd eaten two slices already and was on his third.

"Explain to me exactly what happened," Woojin said softly. Jisung looked up from his fifth slice of cheesecake, listening intently.

You looked down, unable to make eye contact. A hand took yours under the table, and Jisung offered an encouraging grin when you glanced at him. The corners of your mouth lifted into a weak smile in return.

And so you told them. Words detailing the hallucination triggered by the period cramps and the hallucination sparked by Seungmin's touch flew past your lips at a blinding speed. Woojin's and Jisung's brows furrowed in concentration and worry. Jisung's hand tightened on yours; his thumb rubbed comforting circles on the back of your hand.

When you finished after conveniently leaving out your coffee shop visit with Seungmin, Woojin sat forward in his chair, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them. He grunted thoughtfully.

"And you're sure—"

"How are you feeling?" Jisung interrupted Woojin, shooting him a warning look. A twinge of confusion tugged at your mind; you wanted to know what it was about.

"I'm fine," you said hesitantly. He squeezed your hand once more, his cheesecake forgotten.

"You can't be fine. This is the first time you've had two flashbacks in such a short amount of time in months," Jisung argued. Turning to Woojin, he said, "Isn't there anything we can do for her?" His voice grew thick with emotion and desperation.

Woojin sighed. "I wish, but we're really doing all we can without any real risks."

"Real risks? What does that mean?" Jisung demanded as his grip on your hand became almost painful. He was more worried about you than you were, you realized. You suppressed a grateful smile.

Woojin said nothing.

" _What does that mean_?" Jisung's expression grew dark in a way that almost scared you. You'd never seen him like this before.

Woojin let a beat of silence strain between the three of you. Tension zapped in the room, electrifying the air and making your hair stand on end.

"Suicidal thoughts are common."

You blanched as Jisung's hand went limp in yours. The color had leached from Jisung's face; he was white as a sheet. "Suicidal thoughts?" he repeated slowly, one word at a time, as if he was completely unfamiliar with the term.

You hadn't had a single suicidal thought since your ex's murder attempt. You'd danced with death once already; you weren't eager to do so again. You shivered at the thought of actually, truly wanting to die more than you wanted to live. _I will never want that,_ you vowed _. I will never want to die._

Woojin was still trying to console Jisung when you interrupted. "Will it help?" you asked, curiosity and determination shining in your eyes. "Will I be all better? Will all this go away?"

Woojin seemed taken aback at the question before nodding his head reluctantly. "It could. Or everything could worsen ten times and you could be on meds the rest of your life. It only works six times out of ten. Really, the risks outweigh the benefits—"

"Y-You can't seriously be considering this, Y/N! You could end up de—" he gulped before continuing—"dead," Jisung stammered. You squeezed his hand soothingly as he gazed at you with pleading eyes. "Please don't do this," he whispered weakly, the words breathy with desperation.

You tore your eyes away from the man whose hand was clasped so firmly between your own and settled them on Woojin. Woojin opened his mouth to speak, presumably to talk you out of a decision that could ultimately end your life, but a dull glimmer of resignation gleamed in his eyes. He already knew what you would choose.

"Y/N, I wouldn't recommend this to anyone, not even someone I hate entirely. You could lose your mind. You could kill yourself. You could develop depression." Jisung's face fell into a look of terror at each listed symptom, his features twisting with fear. " _But_ you could also come out unscathed. No more hallucinations, no more nightmares. All that would be left are memories." Woojin took a deep breath. "I don't support this, but it's your decision, Y/N. It's your life. Take it or leave it."

Jisung whipped his head in your direction. _Don't you dare,_ his eyes warned. _Don't. You. Dare._

You dared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making your eyes bleed.


	4. Chapter 4

Felix jumped on Seungmin the moment Seungmin pushed open the door to their shared dorm.

"When did you get a girlfriend?" Felix squealed as he wrapped his arms and legs around the other boy, squeezing him tightly.

Seungmin stumbled as his foot caught on the edge of a table and the two boys fell to the hard floor, Felix on top of Seungmin. Felix laughed as Seungmin groaned in pain. Felix climbed to a sitting position on his best friend's chest and shook him by the collar. "Since when do you have a girlfriend?" Felix demanded again, a huge smile breaking across his face in a way that resembled a ray of sun piercing a blanket of clouds.

Seungmin shoved the other boy off himself with a scowl. "Since never," he answered with a distasteful twist of his lips. Sitting up, his face relaxed, a dreamy smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "Though I wouldn't mind if she was."

"Aw," Felix crooned, squishing Seungmin's face between his hands. Seungmin batted him away. "Does somebody have a little crush?"

Seungmin blushed. "Maybe. I don't know." He sighed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. A lock of mahogany hair fell across his forehead with the motion. "We only just met, and I don't know if it's a desire to know her better or a desire for..." He looked at Felix suggestively.

"A desire to be with her?" Felix asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.

The corner of Seungmin's lips quirked into a crooked grin. "Yeah. I think she has a boyfriend, anyway, so it's not like we're going to get together or anything."

Felix nodded in sympathy. "That Jisung guy?"

Seungmin jolted in surprise. "How do you—oh, never mind. I forgot you were there. Yes, the Jisung guy."

Felix looked offended that Seungmin forgot he was there but decided not to comment. "Do you need him out of the way?" Leaning closer, he whispered secretively, "I bet Minho-hyung will beat him up for you."

Gasping suddenly, Seungmin's eyes flew wide. "Oh my God..." he whined, holding his face in his hands as it turned crimson with embarrassment.

"He won't beat him up if you tell him not to, Minnie, it's not that big of a deal," Felix assured him, thinking that the gasp was because of what he had said.

"No, it's not that..." Seungmin groaned. He mumbled something incoherent before responding: "I called her 'love'." Felix's jaw dropped.

A cold voice drifted from the open doorway behind them. "Called who 'love'?"

The boys locked eyes in fear.

Felix gulped.

Seungmin's heart nearly stopped.

Both turned ever so slowly to stare up at the newcomer.

"Well?" Lee Minho crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame in all his duck-pajama-pants glory. "Are either of you going to answer me or are you just going to sit on the ground like idiots?" He eyed their position on the floor.

Felix and Seungmin scrambled to their feet and bowed their heads in respect and greeting. "Her name is Y/N, Hyung," Seungmin answered; he felt as if he were going to break into a sweat at any moment.

"Y/N?" Minho leaned his head back thoughtfully. "Bang Y/N? That cute girl with the hot best friend?"

Felix and Seungmin exchanged glances. _Hot best friend?_ "I-I don't know, Hyung. I only met her this morning."

Seungmin realized that was the wrong thing to say the second the words left his lips.

"You only met her this morning and you've already called her love?" Minho exclaimed, showing the first hint of emotion since he had arrived. He flicked Seungmin on the forehead. "How rude."

 _You aren't the nicest person, either_ , Seungmin thought drily as he fought the urge to rub his smarting forehead. "I know. I'm sorry, Hyung. It just sort of slipped out."

Minho rubbed his temples in the perfect picture of an exhausted college student. "'It just slipped out'? Makes me wonder just how often you call people that." When Seungmin opened his mouth to defend himself, Minho raised a hand for silence. Seungmin had no choice but to shut his mouth with a muffled _snap_. "Just don't let it happen again." He looked at his watch and his face scrunched up in disgust. "I've got to get cracking on an eight-page paper due on Monday, so I'm leaving. I just came to see if the two of you needed anything, but apparently not."

Felix looked at Minho hopefully. "Will you buy us snacks, Hyung?"

Minho slammed the door in his face.

★彡

The day after the incident, you were baking another cheesecake when a knock on your dorm rooms door caught your attention. You looked down at yourself helplessly as you tried to scrub flour off your clothes, your efforts fruitless. Giving up, you wiped your hands on a towel and all but ran to the door, yanking it open with a twist of the knob. Your fingertips left dots of white powder on the cool surface.

A faceful of carnations greeted you the moment the door squeaked open. You stumbled back in surprise, spitting out a petal that had made its way into your mouth some way or another. "What the heck?" you exclaimed, shoving a stray flower out of your face.

"Ack!" a voice cried from the other side of the wall of flowers. "I'm so sorry!" You paused in the motion of pulling petals out of your hair. You knew that voice.

"Chan?"

"Yeah."

Your brother's head popped out over what seemed like a bundle of fifty carnations, a wide smile stretching from ear to ear. "Y/N! I brought you flowers."

You grinned at him brightly as all the pent-up stress and fear from the past day was shoved to the back of your mind. "Thank you so much!" You moved away from the doorway, opening the door wider to let Chan and his mass of blossoms inside.

"It smells good in here," Chan commented, sniffing the air. You skipped over to a cupboard and pulled out a vase for the flowers. Chan settled the bouquet into the vase, the pink blooms spilling over the narrowed neck.

You put your hands on your hips and squinted at the outrageous number of flowers. "I don't think that vase is going to hold them all. How many did you get?"

"The florist shop was having a sale!" he said in defense, frowning at the sheer amount of flowers. "Maybe I shouldn't have gotten forty of them," he said under his breath.

Your mouth fell open. " _Forty flowers_?"

"They were having a sale!" Chan insisted. "Besides, I was wondering if I could take one to Chelsey..." He glanced at you for permission.

"Take twenty of them, Chan!" You threw your hands into the air.

"Twenty? But that's impract—" Chan cut himself off, realizing his mistake. "Ah."

"You brought me forty of them! The least you can do is take half to your girlfriend," you pointed out. As if on cue, the vase fell off the side of the table and shattered, sending porcelain and mangled flowers skittering across the tile. You put your hands on your hips as if to say, _See what you did?_

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry," Chan relented. "I'll clean up. Go sit down."

Ten minutes later, the flowers were in a new, bigger vase and your kitchenette was vacuumed to perfection. You hugged a pillow from your place on the arm of your overstuffed sofa, and Chan did the same on his end. He stared at his hands intently, as if they were the most captivating things he'd ever seen.

You cleared your throat. "So... I'm guessing Jisung told you?" Your words were quiet and small.

"Yes," Chan whispered, raising his head. A pained expression settled across his features like an anchor sinking into a trench. "How... Why...?"

You sighed, stretching your arms in front of you and letting them fall back into your lap. You brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear. "I'm sick of this, Chan. Of everyone treating me like I'm glass." When he tried to argue, you hurried to continue. "You wouldn't even let me help clean up the vase. You told me to go sit down and let you handle it."

Chan fiddled with his hands, ashamed. "I don't do it on purpose, Y/N," he said. "You're my little sister, and I want to protect you with everything I have. I just don't want to see you..." He searched for the right words. "Fall into your dark place again." His eyes met yours in a silent plea.

Your eyes softened at the worry and love radiating from him. You grabbed his hand. "Channie. I'm not going there again. That was a long time ago, and I have no intention of returning." You took a deep breath. "You have to remember that I am my own person. I'm an adult now. I can handle myself. And I want to get better."

"I thought you were getting better. That what you said, what your therapist said, what Jisung said. Everyone said you were going to get over this!" Chan cried. His eyes welled with tears.

"I am getting better," you insisted. "But I'm sick of being different."

"You're not—"

"How many other people do you know have frequent flashbacks of someone trying to kill them?" you demanded. Chan closed his mouth, chastised.

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you offered him a smile. "I love you, Chan. So much. You know that. I promise I'm not in a hurry to leave you," you assured him. It was only when you felt something wet drip down your cheek that you realized you were crying.

"I love you, Y/N." He tugged you into his arms and kissed your hair. Your pillow fell to the floor with a soft plop. "I love you too much to let you go."

Your shoulders shook as you sobbed away all the worries and unknowns into Chan's shirt, and he held you tightly. He cried quietly with his cheek pressed to the top of your head. The two of you didn't move until your tears had dried and your breaths had slowed to an even rhythm.

You were just pulling away when the oven beeped, the sound insensitive to the pain shared between you and your brother. You gave Chan a watery grin. "Cheesecake?"

He wiped the tearstains off his cheeks. "How could I say no?" he asked, and both of you laughed until you couldn't remember why you were laughing anymore, because the only other option was to cry. 

★彡 

Chan had left after a slice of cheesecake. The two of you had spent half an hour arguing whether cheesecake tasted best hot or cold—there were a lot of dirty words shot back and forth—but eventually, the two of you had compromised with room temperature.

You had barely sat down with a textbook and your third cup of coffee when someone knocked on your door for the second time that day. Huffing, you dropped the book on the sofa unceremoniously as you rose to answer the door. _Stupid Jisung,_ you thought. _Always wanting to bother me just as I'm about to be productive._

"Why aren't you studyi—" You broke off when you were met by a bouquet of flowers instead of a person.

Again.

_This is getting old._

Peeking over the blooms—assorted this time—was a set of familiar dark eyes, framed by a pair of glasses, not unlike the ones Woojin wore. "Seungmin?" you asked, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion. _Why is he here?_

"Hi," he said cheerfully, holding out the flowers so you could see them better. "These are for you." He peered into your dorm, leaning forward on the balls of his feet, before returning his attention to you. "Anywhere I can put these?"

"U-uh," you stammered, grateful that he thought of you but wishing he'd leave. You were afraid his presence would trigger another flashback.

You straightened your spine and set your shoulders, trying to act like he hadn't interrupted a perfectly blissful hallucination-free morning. "Are you inviting yourself into my dorm?" you teased, thankful that the words had come out smoothly. _You can't even tell I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown_.

"I guess I am," Seungmin grinned. The boy had no shame.

You raised your eyebrows. "Then come in, I suppose." You stepped back, allowing him entry. "It's not usually this clean; my best friend trashes the place when he comes over, but he hasn't been here today. No Jisung equals clean dorm."

"Jisung is your best friend? I thought he was your boyfriend." You thought you caught a strange trace of relief in his words, but you couldn't be sure. Your mind was too jumbled to be sure of anything at the moment.

"Nope," you said, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. Everything happening around you was a dream, and you were on an island, stranded with no boat to row yourself back to reality. The only thing you felt you could trust was the ground under your feet. You gripped the edge of the nearest countertop until your knuckles went white and your hand was numb.

"Holy crap," you heard Seungmin whisper. The words of incredulity wrapped around your waist and dragged you back to here and now, on the shores of awareness. You blinked.

You tore your eyes away from the counter and focused on the boy in your kitchen. One of his hands covered his mouth. You followed his gaze to the hearing mass of carnations in the middle of your kitchen table. "Whoever bought those is a master money saver."

"I know it's a lot—wait, what?" His words registered in your brain, but no matter how you switched them around, they didn't make sense.

Seungmin spun toward you excitedly. "There was a sale on pink carnations at the florist I went to. Who gave you these? I need to learn some tips because I'm flat-out broke."

You recalled Chan saying something about a sale. "How do you know these are from the same shop?" you asked warily.

Seungmin looked at you with a _duh_ expression. "Why else would they buy fifty pink carnations?"

You resisted the urge to inform him that there were only thirty now that Chan had taken ten to his girlfriend. "If you're so broke, why didn't you buy the ones on sale?"

Seungmin shrugged, pinking slightly. "Quality over quantity, I guess."

"Fair enough. My brother gave me these." You picked a flower from the vase, twirled it in your hand once, and stuck it back into its watery prison.

"Oh, is he in town?" Seungmin scanned your dorm for any signs of a guest. 

"Well, kind of. He's a music major here," you explained.

"A money saver and a music major? Sounds like my kind of guy," Seungmin said with a grin.

You snorted. "Right."

Your eyes flicked between Seungmin's flowers and Chan's, trying to determine whether they would fit in the same vase. Seungmin watched you think, following your train of thought.

"Instead of wondering whether they would fit, we could just..." He plopped the flowers in the vase and arranged them evenly throughout. He stepped back and admired his handiwork, proud.

"Such a problem solver," you said drily.

Seungmin bounced his eyebrows up and down. "I should be a florist. Can you get a degree for that?"

You giggled. "I don't know, but I think you'd look wonderful in an apron."

Seungmin pretended to pout. "Why do I have to wear an apron?"

"It's against the Florist Laws to not wear one," you laughed, imagining him in an apron. Your laughter cut off abruptly when you realized that he _would_ look great in an apron.

How dare he. Guys wearing aprons were supposed to look silly, not attractive.

You banished the image from your mind.

Leaning down, Seungmin carefully selected a stem with three tiny flowers along the end. The small blooms were gorgeous, white with pink streaks and sweet-smelling. Cherry blossoms. The room seemed to warm when he looked back at you. "Come here," he breathed, a small blush dusting across his cheeks.

You complied, edging forward ever so slowly. He slid one hand into your hair to push it away from your face, his fingers shaking slightly, and you suppressed a shiver at his touch. Your heart sped up, racing a mile a minute, and your breath mirrored its movements. He slipped the stem behind your ear, letting the soft petals graze your cheek like a whisper of a kiss. His face dipped closer to yours than strictly necessary.

You didn't tell him to move.

"Y/N." Your name was little more than a puff of air floating past his lips.

_His lips._

They inched closer and closer. You tilted your chin into the air, your eyes drifting shut.

_A flash of dark hair._

_The gleam of a knife._

_A spray of blood._

You stepped away just as his lips brushed yours, a gasp escaping your mouth. You pressed a hand against your heart, air whooshing in and out of your lungs at a speed matching that of a galloping horse. Your skin prickled and your hair stood on end.

"Y/N?" Your name carried the heavy weight of smothered disappointment. "Was that too fast? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

Trembling, you raised your eyes to meet Seungmin's. Regret etched itself into his features, and you felt guilty for pushing away. "I-I'm sorry, my last relationship didn't end too well, and..." You trailed off, not wanting to think of _him_ anymore.

"It's okay, I understand," Seungmin smiled. He held out a hand. "Come somewhere with me?"

You rubbed the end of the stem in your hair nervously. "Sure." You weren't going to let one bump in the road rule your life. Even if it felt like a mountain.

You entwined his fingers with yours and fought back a shudder at how familiar the movement was.

★彡

"You brought me to a... gas station?"

Seungmin's car ground to a halt on the broken asphalt of a gas station parking lot. The only things you could see were miles of road stretching either direction and a lonely, derelict building surrounded by the biggest field you'd ever seen. Old-fashioned gas pumps jutted out of the ground and looked hopelessly out of place, long yellow grasses that burst through cracks in the pavement all but reaching the top of the pumps. "Surprise!" Seungmin shouted, throwing his hands into the air. They smacked on the roof of the car with a dull thud. Seungmin winced.

"Yay?" You weren't quite sure what there was to be excited about. _Is this why he needs therapy?_ you wondered, your brow creasing in confusion.

_Did we really just drive forty-five minutes for this?_

"Are you sure that thing's not abandoned?" you mused, half to yourself and half expecting an answer.

"Oh, it's abandoned. You can be sure of that." Seungmin struggled to push his door open. He kicked the base of the door twice before it gave way. Looking back at you, he said, "You'll probably have to do the same thing to yours. This baby is not new, and she needs some wheedling before she'll let you have your way." He slapped the roof of the car and the whole vehicle jolted.

"Smooth, Seungmin," he muttered to himself as he spun away.

You shook your head as you ran your fingers along the edge of the window and stared at the sheer amount of dust coating the tips of your fingers. "Somebody needs to clean you, don't they?" you mumbled. You narrowed your eyes at Seungmin's back pointedly.

You squeezed the handle that would let you out and, to your surprise, the door swung open under your touch with a reluctant creak. "Huh."

"How'd you do that?" Seungmin gaped as you climbed out. Astonishment hung in the air around him, mixing with the sweet scent of the cheery blossom still tucked behind your ear and the wild smell of the outdoors. You shrugged playfully.

Seungmin huffed at you before taking your hand and meeting your eyes with his. _Is this okay?_ they asked

You offered a small nod as a shiver ran down your spine under the weight of his gaze. His hand tightened on yours and his mouth curved into a heart-stopping grin. "Follow me?"

You smiled. "Of course."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making your eyes bleed.


	5. Chapter 5

"Seungmin, this is... _incredible_."

What had looked like a broken-down gas station from the outside was an ethereal wonderland on the inside. Lights were strung across the walls and hung from the exposed rafters; when Seungmin flicked them on, they illuminated the room with a hazy glow. An old stereo was propped against a wall and oversized pillows and bean bags were strewn across the floor. Planks and threadbare blankets covered the spots where the hardwood had rotted away, and a raggedy, second-hand couch rested in a corner. Most of the old, waist-high shelves had been dragged away to form a cluster against the far wall, except for a few that had colorful table cloths thrown over them. The counter, which still sported an ancient cash register, was decorated with car models and assorted pieces of twisted metal. But none of this was what made you gasp.

Every surface was scattered with books.

Books were piled on top of each other, erecting small mountains in every corner and nook. A few knee-high stacks of hardbacks, paperbacks, and what looked like manuals rose from the ground like pillars of mismatched stone. You picked up the nearest paperback, rubbing the worn cover softly between your thumb and forefinger. You lips twitched into a smile at the title. _Roommates_.

"Thank you," Seungmin said quietly. Raising your eyes to take in the boy standing just feet from you, you waved the book in your hands at him.

"I didn't peg you for a fan of cliches," you smirked, thumbing through a couple of pages. You shot him an amused look. "Hey, your name is in here."

"Yeah," Seungmin tittered, scratching the back of his neck.

You squinted at the page, looking closely. Your face broke into a wide smile. "Hey, Jisung is, too! And I know a Changbin, a Hyunjin, my older brother's name is Chan—oh! And Woojin, too." You tore your gaze from the page to focus on Seungmin. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "Did you write this? Are you stalking me?"

Seungmin took a step back in surprise. "No! It's a coincidence, I swear!" His eyes were wide and honest. You shrugged, returning the book to its place.

You looked askance at him playfully. "Do you mind if I borrow it?"

"Of course not," Seungmin grinned. "Feel free to borrow anything you like."

"Really?" you beamed, running your fingertips over the soft cover. "Thank you!"

Seungmin gulped audibly. Blood rushed to his cheeks in a wild blush. He stared at his feet, as if in shame. "What's wrong?" you asked carefully, noting the sudden change in atmosphere. The temperature in the room seemed to rise more than a couple of degrees.

"Nothing." Turning to the counter at his side, he fumbled along its smooth surface and straightened, victorious in his search, a small, boxy object clutched in his hand.

"What's that?" you wondered aloud, and Seungmin cracked a small grin at you.

He pressed a button, and the low, mournful notes of a slow song pierced the air. A violin hummed faintly like the murmur of an insect, followed by the deep thrum of a guitar. You closed your eyes in bliss as the low moans of the melody swelled and deflated all around you, wrapping your body in a cocoon of beauty.

You became aware of every sense you usually pushed to the back of your mind in favor of your sight. Your mouth filled with the sweet taste of classical music, small notes of apple bursting along your tongue. The whisper of your shirt against your skin tickled your sensitive sides, and your jeans squeezed your hips a fraction too tightly for your liking. The delightfully musty smell of the old building reminded you of late nights of laughter and spilled hot chocolate with your grandparents, and the faint tang of gasoline wandering along the air brought back visions of long road trips with your parents and your siblings across the country you grew up in. And everything, all mixed together, reminded you of one place:

 _Australia_.

You missed it so much. You missed the park that you and Chan--Chris, then--would play in every afternoon the minute your schoolwork was finished. You missed the barbecued breeze when your father would grill steaks in your backyard. You missed your younger siblings, Hannah and Lucas. You missed your grandparents. You missed your parents.

You missed everything.

Hot tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away before they could even think about coming to fruition. You refused to cry in front of Seungmin.

Foreign fingers brushed against yours, and you flinched as your eyes flew open. Hurt flashed across Seungmin's perfect features. He began to pull his hand away, but you squeezed it in reassurance. _Don't pull away_ , your eyes pleaded.

Gripping your hand more firmly than before, he pulled you flush against him. You yelped in surprise when you collided with his hard chest. He put his hands on your waist and looked down at you with a breathtaking smile. "Dance with me?"

Your cheeks pinked as you nodded slowly. Seungmin tugged you to an open space in the center of the refurbished store, and you danced.

Song after song flew by, until the sun set behind the grimy windows and slathered the room with muted oranges and pinks. Hours passed, yet you were only aware of minutes. You and Seungmin gradually moved closer; his hands wandered from your hips to pull you into an embrace, and your arms moved from his shoulders to loop around his neck.

It was perfect.

You rested your head on Seungmin's shoulder as the two of you swayed to the music. A soft smile played across your lips. "Is this the part where you tell me I'm the first person you've ever brought here?" you teased.

Seungmin tensed under your cheek, and you stifled a giggle. "Ah, no." His chest rumbled against the side of your head with the sounds. "I'm sorry, is that what you were expecting?" His tone was genuinely apologetic, and a tiny peal of laughter escaped your lips.

"No," you laughed. "I was only joking, Minnie."

His arms tightened around you, and he was silent for a moment.

"Can I kiss you?"

Your heart stopped.

You froze for the slightest sliver of a second. "U-uh—"

"It's okay," Seungmin hurried to say. "I shouldn't have asked."

You buried your face in Seungmin's shoulder. "I'm really sorry, Seungmin."

One arm detached from your back and callused fingers tilted your chin into the air. You met his eyes nervously, afraid of whatever he was going to say. Or do.

You swallowed thickly.

"Don't ever apologize for anything you don't want to do," Seungmin said softly, his words light but his tone firm and unyielding.

 _He's so much different than my last boyfriend,_ you thought in bewilderment. Bruising, abrupt kisses and manipulation were all you received from _him._

"Thank you," you whispered.

Seungmin frowned, seeming troubled. "You don't need to thank me," he told you.

After a few more moments of dipping back and forth in time with the music, he spoke again. "Was he... Was your ex awful to you?"

You laughed bitterly. "You could definitely say that."

You could feel the question lingering in the air around the room. When you didn't make an effort to relieve his curiosity, Seungmin blinked hard and asked anyway: "Is he the reason you're doing therapy?'

You pressed your nose into the fabric of his shirt and the hard muscle underneath and breathed in his scent deeply. He smelled of dusty pages read at midnight and silent desperation. His fragrance committed to memory, you stepped back, out of his hold. "Yes," you said simply.

Seungmin's hands reached for you but fell to his sides when he realized you weren't returning to his embrace. "It's late," you blurted, eager to escape from his questions. "We should get back."

_I don't want to scare him away._

_I care about him,_ you realized. _He matters to me._ Each second with him felt so natural that you hadn't even noticed when he started chipping away at your walls. Everything about him seemed so perfect, so unblemished, and there you were, in all your broken glory. You couldn't bear to stain him with your jagged edges and tattered heart.

You've hardly known him for two days, and he'd already managed to etch himself into your heart.

Seungmin's phone rang shrilly, slicing into your thoughts as seamlessly as a knife slipping through warm butter. Seungmin squinted at the caller ID before answering. "What do you want, 'Lix?"

Muffled chatter echoed from the tiny speakers as Seungmin blanched. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. "Jisung is, is... there? O-Oh, hi, Jisung-ssi," Seungmin sputtered. Angry yelling reached you through the speaker, though you couldn't decipher the words however much you concentrated. "Ye-yes, Y/N-ah's here with me— You'd like to speak with her? Here she is."

Seungmin thrust the phone at you, desperation clouding his features. "Please take it," he mouthed at you. You bit back a laugh as you held Seungmin's phone to your ear.

"Jisung-ah?"

" _Y/N!_ What on earth were you thinking, disappearing like that without telling anyone?" Jisung shrieked into your ear. You held the phone away from your face, wincing at the dull pain shooting through your eardrum. "I called your phone thirty-one times! If you aren't back here in ten minutes, I'll personally rip you limb from limb."

You clucked your tongue. "Well, then we've got a problem, because I'm about an hour away from the city."

" _You what?_ "Jisung screeched. "You left the city with a stranger?"

"Well, he's not really a stranger—" you tried to reason, but Jisung carried on as if you hadn't spoken.

"You could be dead! What would you have done if he was a serial killer, or, or a murderer?"

"A serial killer and a murderer are basically the same things, Sung," you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation. Seungmin's eyes widened at the drastic turn in conversation.

"Either way, you can't just—"

"I can do what I want, Jisung! I am an adult, not a child, so stop treating me like one," you hissed. "I'm tired of having someone constantly worry about me. I can handle myself!"

Jisung was quiet on the other line. When he spoke, his words were laced with venom. "Y/N. You have exactly one hour to get back here. And we will talk. And you will see reason."

"No."

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"No, as in, I am not going to speak with you again tonight. You need to cool off. I refuse to talk to you when you are acting this way," you growled. Your words were hard and cold.

" _I_ need to cool off? _You_ need to stop being so stubborn and get back here. Woojin--"

"Goodbye, Jisung-ah," you said coolly.

"Don't you dare hang up this phone, Y/N, or I'll—" Jisung threatened, but you never figured out what he would do.

You ended the call

★彡

"She...she..." Jisung gaped at the phone in his hands in astonishment. "She hung up on me," he whispered.

Felix snatched his phone from the older boy's clutches. "Well, you weren't being very nice, Jisung-ssi."

"I shouldn't have to be nice," Jisung seethed. "She's my best friend!"

"I may not know much because I have exactly one brain cell, but you're not supposed to yell at your best friend if you want to avoid an argument," Felix advised sagely.

Jisung's face fell. "She'll understand." He sounded unsure, as if he was trying to convince himself more than Felix.

"I don't know. She sounded pretty mad," Felix admitted. "You should probably apologize."

"Me? Apologize?" Jisung gave a short, breathy laugh. "I'm not going to apologize for going out of my mind with worry."

Felix shrugged. "Sometimes you just have to be the bigger person and apologize, even if you don't mean it at the time." Felix looked Jisung squarely in the eye, rendering Jisung useless to tear his eyes away. "You don't know how long you have someone until you lose them."

Jisung set his jaw, finding his voice. "Exactly." He spun on his heels and stormed out of Felix's dorm, brushing arms with another boy on his way into the room Jisung had just left.

Minho popped his head into Felix's dorm. "Was that Y/N's best friend? Such strong shoulders." His eyes slipped out of focus dreamily.

Felix grinned at Minho, tucking his phone into his pocket. "Yeah. He's got a temper, though."

"Fiesty," Minho smirked.

Felix groaned. "Please don't ever say that word again, Hyung."

"Why ever not?"

"It sounds so cliche that it actually hurts my ears," Felix whined, his lips sinking into a mock pout. The cute effect was ruined by his deep voice.

"Your ears will _really_ hurt when I—"

"Hyung, I don't think I got enough—Oh, hey, 'Lix-hyung." A mop of wild onyx hair framing a pale face peeked over Minho's shoulder.

"Jeongin," Felix smiled.

"I brought snacks!" Jeongin squealed, pushing past Minho and dropping a mound of chocolate and chips on the small table. A quick glance around the room led his to furrow his brows in confusion. "Where's Seungmin?"

The whack of a hand across the back of his head made Jeongin wince. "It's Seungmin-hyung to you, brat," Minho scolded, lightly hitting Jeongin once more for good measure. To Felix, he said: "But yes, where is Brat Number Two?"

"Out."

"Out?"

"Just out."

Minho frowned at Felix. "Is he with that Y/N chick?"

"Yeah," Felix answered, looking at his shoes. "I think he likes her, Hyung."

Minho scoffed. "Well, I thought that much was obvious."

Jeongin's ears all but perked up with curiosity. "Who does Minnie—" he cast a nervous glance in Minho's direction— "-hyung like?"

"Bang Y/N," Minho and Felix said at the same time.

"Jinx!" Felix shouted triumphantly. "You owe me—"

"Nothing," Minho cut in, leveling the blond with a hard glare. "I owe you nothing."

Felix grimaced. "Right."

The corners of Jeongin's mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown. "Y/N? I don't know a Y/N," he said slowly, lost in the action of trying to match a name to a face.

Felix huffed at Minho before turning to Jeongin. "She's a freshman. I think. I don't know what her major is." Bouncing his eyebrows up and down, he added, "And Seungmin's crazy for her."

"Crazy?" Jeongin said skeptically. He looked to Minho for confirmation.

Minho elbowed Felix in the side. "Hyung, stop bullying me!" Felix wailed.

"No. And Jeongin, Felix is being dramatic. Seungmin likes her, yes," Minho clarified.

"Oh," Jeongin fell silent.

A quiet moment lapsed between the boys, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Felix broke the silence. "You guys wanna eat all Seungmin's food?"

★彡

You slid into Seungmin's car after a brief, half-hearted battle with the car door. Seungmin started the engine and the two of you sped off into the night.

Fifteen minutes of silence dragged by. You sighed, resting the side of your head against the car window. Your eyes drifted shut as your hand came up to subconsciously rub your stomach. Slipping your hand under the hem of your shirt, you brushed the pad of your thumb across the ugly, jagged scar ripping across the plane of your stomach. It stretched from the top of your ribs to just above the waistline of your jeans.

Your eyes flew open when cautious fingers threaded through yours. Your gaze jumped from the acres of farmland rolling by and the distant twinkling lights of the city to meet Seungmin's.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, tearing his eyes away and focusing on the road.

Your lips curved into a soft smile. "I'm fine. Jisung just..." You trailed off. "He's overbearing sometimes."

You blinked hard, resisting against the tears pricking at the back of your eyelids. _I shouldn't have snapped at him like I did._

Seungmin nodded. "Yeah." He squeezed your hand.

Neither of you said much else for the rest of the drive to the dorms.

Seungmin pulled into the underground parking lot beneath your dorm building. The car came to a stop and the engine rumbled to a halt. You began to pry open the door, but Seungmin stopped you with a hand on your knee. You paused, your fingers wrapped around the handle. Your face contorted into a questioning look.

"I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I had a great time tonight."

You bit your lip. "Why wouldn't I want to hear it?"

Seungmin blushed and laughed nervously. "I don't know." He eyed you. "Was this a...date?" he asked tentatively, testing the waters.

Your heart leaped to your throat. You said nothing.

"Am I going too fast?"

Seungmin's question rang in your mind like a bell, ricocheting like a stray bullet. You hesitated before answering. "Maybe we should get to know each other first."

Seungmin's eyes darted to your stomach so quickly you almost swore it never happened. "Isn't that what dates are for?"

You shot him an amused look. "I suppose," you decided after a moment.

"A date?" Seungmin asked hopefully.

"A date," you confirmed, your heart swelling with inexplicable happiness.

Seungmin leaned back in his seat, relief radiating from his body. "I'll walk you to your door."

"You really don't need to do that," you assured him. "I can manage on my own."

Seungmin raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "The last time I tried to do that, you had some sort of panic attack and passed out. Not gonna happen."

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block the painful memory from coming to the surface. "Okay." You started to get out, but Seungmin stopped you again. "What?" you said irritably.

Seungmin all but jumped out of the car and rushed to your side. After a few harsh tugs, the door sprang open. "Your Majesty," he said with a flourish of his hands, a smirk curling the edges of your mouth.

"Shut up," you laughed, swatting at him playfully.

He held an arm out, and you looped yours through his. You raised your chin regally. "Shall we conclude our journey, Sir Seungmin the Dutiful?"

Leaning close to you. he stage-whispered, "Why am I Sir Seungmin the Dutiful and not Sir Seungmin the..." He thought for a moment. "Humorous?"

"Because I am the Queen, and I have decided that you are Dutiful. Now, shall we conclude our journey?"

Seungmin pulled back, biting the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing. "Yes, Queen Y/N. Onward."

And onward you went.

The elevator ride passed without incident, thankfully, and the short walk down the hall was uneventful.

The two of you stood outside your door as you fumbled in your pockets for your keys. "We should go out again," Seungmin murmured.

The two of you locked eyes, your key ring firmly clutched in your fist. "We should," you agreed, smiling up at him through thick lashes.

Seungmin rocked back on his heels. "Are you free Friday night?"

"Yeah." You fought against the wild blush threatening to take over your cheeks.

"Pick you up at six?" he offered. "There's this great hole-in-the-wall Italian place just outside the city limits."

"It's a date," you managed to get out.

Tipping forward swiftly, Seungmin pressed a chaste, lingering kiss on your cheek.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach in a chaotic frenzy. Blood roared in your ears, your pulse racing a mile a minute. "See you on Friday," you whispered.

"Friday." Shooting you a heart-stopping smile, he spun back around to return to the elevator that would take him down one floor to his dorm. Your eyes followed his shrinking figure down the hall, reluctant to bring the night to an end. You furrowed your brow in confusion when he stopped just shy of the metallic doors without pushing the down button. Catching your gaze over his shoulder, he winked, which sent your heart cartwheeling. Opening the door right beside the elevator, he disappeared down the stairwell.

You shook your head in amusement as you fit your key into the lock and twisted the knob. To your surprise, the door swung open under your touch before you could even turn the key.

The door was unlocked.

Gasping, you burst into your dark dorm. You barreled into a hard chest and tumbled to the ground, the intruder underneath your sprawled body.

"Jesus, Y/N," a familiar voice heaved. "How much do you weigh?"

You scrambled to your feet, your eyes locked on the man lying on his back on the floor. "Jinnie? Why are you in my dorm?" you asked, incredulous. "And without the lights on?"

Hwang Hyunjin rose, towering over you, with a guilty expression plastered across his features. "Well, you see—"

A hand slithered out from the shadows, latching itself onto Hyunjin's shoulder and silencing him effectively. A figure that seemed small compared to Hyunjin's tall, lanky frame stepped into the light spilling in from the hall, a Student Council key ring swinging from one hand.

"Hello, Y/N," Jisung said coldly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse any typos because I don't feel like proofreading.
> 
> Sorry for making your eyes bleed.


	6. Chapter 6

You crossed your arms. "Did you just use Hyunjin to break into my dorm?"

"Please don't tell Mr. Jung," Hyunjin begged, taking your hands in his. "I was blackmailed. He was going to tell my crush what happened with the Cheetos."

You sighed, drawing your hands away from Hyunjin to rub your temples. "I won't. But I will, however, beat the two of you into next week." You stepped on his toes, pressing down extra hard.

"Ow, Y/N," Hyunjin whined, stepping out of range of your feet.

"Y/N—" Jisung started, but to say that you weren't in the mood would be a vast understatement.

"Go, Jisung," you interrupted.

"Listen to me," Jisung growled, his features twisting into a glower as his frustration bubbled to the surface.

Scalding anger zapped through the room like a heat wave, and you briefly worried that this fight was far bigger than you thought it was. Naturally, you and Jisung butted heads quite often, but the days when the two of you fought more seriously were few and far between. The last real fight had lasted about a week, and those six days (and thirteen hours, twenty-seven minutes; you had counted) were hands-down the worst of your life. Barring the three weeks you spent in the hospital recovering from your dance with death, of course.

"I already told you I wouldn't. Not tonight." You snatched the key ring from Jisung and handed it back to Hyunjin, who smiled at you gratefully. "Now go."

You jolted in surprise when Jisung's face fell slack in defeat.  _He can't be giving up already._

"Won't you just listen to what I have to say?" Jisung pleaded, hurt shining in the tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

Guilt tugged at your heart, but you banished it to the pit of your stomach, where your other fears and suppressed memories resided. You glanced at your watch and then back at Jisung. "It's late. You have class in the morning," you sighed. "Go back to your dorm."

Jisung dropped his gaze to his feet. "Will we still walk to campus together?" he asked hopefully.

You heaved a breath. "Of course."

Jisung cracked a small, sad smile at you before looking at Hyunjin. "I'm sorry for dragging you out of bed and using your Student Council perks to torment our best friend." You noticed, for the first time, that Hyunjin was wearing fluffy bunny slippers and sweatpants, his hair pushed back with a pink hair band.

Hyunjin offered Jisung a soft grin. "It's okay. Just don't do it again, or I'll set Changbin on you."

A mental image popped into your mind of Changbin, your short friend that made up for his lack of height in muscles, driving a hard punch into Jisung's stomach. You winced at the thought when you realized that Changbin would probably do it if Hyunjin begged enough; Changbin did nearly whatever the other boy asked.

Jisung shot Hyunjin a playful glare. "I won't." After a skeptical stare from both you and Hyunjin, he amended, "Probably."

You blinked hard, resisting against the sleep tugging at your consciousness. You raised your hand in a half-hearted shooing gesture. "I'm tired, and the two of you have got to walk across the street to the other dorm building. Get out of here before I ask Chan to ruin your lives," you yawned, your loose threat falling flat.

The boys grinned at you in unison. As Jisung brushed by, his fingers were ivy curling up and around your wrist. A faint, breathy "Goodnight" escaped his lips and he withdrew his touch. He left without another word.

A wave of passive indifference swept over your features to mask the conflict roiling under the surface of your skin. Guilt reared its ugly head as you realized that you didn't want Jisung to leave, but you also knew that you didn't want to put up with his late-night temper. You knew his mood would be much improved by tomorrow morning, and ideally, the two of you could hash out your differences during the brief walk to the university campus.

When Hyunjin passed, you stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Stay and cuddle?" you asked hopefully. You needed some kind of physical comfort after receiving a cold smack in the face from the growing abyss stretching between you and Jisung.

Hyunjin frowned, glancing at the dorm clock. "It's already almost eleven o'clock. It sends the wrong message to be late on the second week of classes. And I definitely can't be late; I've got a Student Council meeting at seven."

"You broke into my dorm."

"...Fair enough."

★彡

"Hyunjin. Hyunjin. Hyunjin." You shook the boy sleeping soundly next to you with harsh movements. He had all but taken over the entire bed, and you had woken up curled into a ball, perched on the very edge of the mattress, one of his arms flung across your forehead. His mouth gaped open in his sleep, and every once in a while, a deep hum echoing from the back of his throat would drift past his open lips. Your back arched away from his flailing limbs all night, and you weren't ashamed to say that you regretted asking him to stay more than once.

After ten minutes of trying (and failing) to wake Hyunjin, you had given up and granted yourself a reprieve, during which you got ready and assumed he would wake up on his own.

Obviously, you were wrong.

Fast-forward to now. Your alarm clock was shouting at you in frenzied, angry beeps, Hyunjin wouldn't move, and he had overslept. All in all, not a great start of the day. "Wake up, you big lump." You pinched his arm. "We're gonna be late if you don't get up."

Hyunjin groaned, rolling over and burying his face in your pillow. "Don't wanna," he protested weakly, his voice muffled. "'M tired."

"Your meeting was at seven A.M., right?" Hyunjin nodded groggily.

"We've got plenty of time," Hyunjin assured you, the words slurred together with sleep.

You raised a skeptic eyebrow at his half-asleep form. "Do you even know what time it is?"

"...No."

"It's 6:45."

" _What_?" Hyunjin bolted upright in the bed, his eyes wide and glazed over from sleep. He blinked his eyes into focus, his long lashes fluttering wildly. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier, imbecile?"

You stepped back from his flying limbs as he scrambled to his feet. "If you had actually woken up the first five times I tried, you wouldn't be late," you chided.

Hyunjin shot you a dirty look as he danced across the room to rummage through the drawer of things you kept in your dorm for nights the boys slept over. You fidgeted with the hem of your blouse while he slipped a collared shirt on, his soft, honey skin disappearing under the pressed fabric.

"Do you need anything from your dorm?" you asked, your phone ready in your hand. "I can call Jisung or Bin to get it for you."

Pausing briefly in his struggle to brush out the wrinkles in his shorts, Hyunjin turned a disbelieving eye on you. "They're both asleep," he deadpanned.

"You don't know that—"

"Call them. If they don't answer, you're buying coffee today."

You, Hyunjin, Jisung, Chan, and Changbin had a regular coffee routine that all five of you had done your best to stick to since high school. It included each person paying for everyone's coffee orders (or in Jisung's case, hot chocolate) one day of the week. Hyunjin bought on Mondays, Jisung on Tuesdays, Chan had Wednesdays, Changbin covered Thursdays, and you took care of Fridays. When Chan left for college, everyone paid for their own coffee on Wednesdays, and when Changbin left, you, Jisung, and Hyunjins bought your own coffees on Wednesdays and Thursdays.

Until  _he_ had arrived and taken Chan's place.

Now that all five of you attended the same university, your coffee schedule had picked up right where it left off and returned to normal. Minus your late ex-boyfriend, of course.

You had Chan's, Changbin's, and Jisung's orders committed to memory, but Hyunjin was always wanting to try a new coffee.

"Fine, but you have to buy Friday instead," you brokered.

"Deal."

You swallowed against the reluctant huff building in your throat and dialed Jisung. Twice. Three times. No answer.

The attempt to reach Changbin went much the same.

Hyunjin smirked triumphantly at you. "I want a vanilla bean latte, but don't get it from that sorry excuse for a coffee shop across from the school."

You groaned internally. You were going to have to walk an extra three blocks for coffee. "The coffee from the shop across the street tastes fine. I've never found anything wrong with it." This was true; it wasn't as flavorful as the coffee from the other shops, but it was still coffee.

Hyunjin stared at you. "It literally tastes like glorified bean juice."

You squinted. "Isn't that exactly what coffee is?"

Hyunjin glared halfheartedly. "You can't tell the difference because your taste buds are subpar to mine."

"What does that even mean?"

"Exactly what you think it means, peasant. You've never found any food that you don't like."

"I don't like licorice."

Hyunjin leveled you with a  _duh_ look. "No one likes licorice."

You opened your mouth to defend yourself before realizing that he was right. "Fine. But you're lucky that I love you," you said sourly.

Hyunjin broke out into a wide grin, exposing even, pearly white teeth. He swatted at you lightly. "Yeah, whatever."

★彡

You slammed a palm on the door to Jisung and Hyunjin's shared dorm for what seemed like the fiftieth time. "Han Jisung, get your butt out of bed and unlock this door!"

Your shouts ricocheted down the hall, bouncing off the peachy walls and many doors to return to you with a reverberating echo.

The door to the neighboring dorm popped open, and a face stuck itself out of the narrow gap between the door frame and the door. The boy swore at you and disappeared back into his room, leaving the door cracked.

You rolled your eyes.

"Han Jis—"

"Y/N?"

You swiveled your head to see the same boy that had cursed. He stood in the doorway, staring at you unabashedly.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, fear jolting through your nervous system and highlighting each nerve with a burning urge to  _get away. He knows my name. He knows my name. He knows my name._ You didn't know how he knew it, and the simple, harmless uncertainty terrified you.

"Can I help you?" Your voice trembled in a way that you hated. You struggled to remember Woojin's breathing exercises. Every time you managed to scrape together the sound of his calming voice, another wave of fear crashed over you and dashed it to pieces.

His face broke into a wide smile that transformed his cold, stoic expression completely. His nose became not quite so sharp, the apples of his teeth swelled, and his lips stretched to reveal perfect snowy teeth. You openly gaped before grabbing hold of yourself; he was one of the most beautiful people you'd ever laid eyes upon. "You're Seungmin's girl, aren't you?"

_Seungmin's girl?_

A wild blush took hold of your cheeks, making the tips of your ears burn red hot. "U-um, I think you've got the wrong Y/N," you sputtered, jiggling Jisung's doorknob desperately. You didn't want to talk to this strange but beautiful boy.  _Please open the door, please, please, please—_

The door finally gave way under your touch; your fingers groped forward blindly and caught a sleepy Jisung by the neck, your hand slipping over smooth, bare skin. You felt the muscles in his neck flex as he opened his mouth to speak. "I would've put a shirt on, but that noise you kept making with the door—"

"Oh, look, my friend's here," you said hurriedly. "Gotta go." You tried to push past Jisung into his dorm, but your best friend held firm.

"Why are you here?" Jisung demanded of the stranger, surprising you. You raised your eyebrows in reluctant curiosity. An old saying your mother used to make a habit of repeating to you pushed to the forefront of your mind:

_Curiosity killed the cat._

The storm churning in your stomach increased tenfold.

"You know him?"

"Well, sort of," Jisung admitted. "He was in that Felix kid's dorm when I went looking for you yesterday."

You turned your attention to the boy. He was watching the two of you talk with a smug expression, though his eyes seemed to linger on Jisung more than you. When you paid closer attention, you realized that his eyes roved up and down Jisung's body, his eyes taking their time on Jisung's—

_Oh God._

"So you  _are_ Seungmin's girl." The boy's voice was almost ethereal, pulling you in like a siren's call. You'd bet anything that he was a singer.

_A singer._

Your mind dipped into a frenzy, drawing nonsensical conclusions faster than you could produce rational ones. Your ex had been an aspiring singer, and you could still recall the way his eyes would light up when a song he loved came on the radio, how he would grasp your hand and pull you into a dance, how his fingers would twist in yours when you spun you around and snatch you back into his hold the second the two of you parted. Even his laughter was musical, and the sound of it would always prod your lips into a smile.

With the happy memories, the sour ones tainted your mind as well.

The way his dark eyes stared into your soul to search for weakness and ways to use your guilt was forever imprinted into your mind. His too-hot touch on your cheeks when he twisted your emotions into something dark, ugly, and broken still smoldered even though the owner of the touch was long gone. And you could never seem to erase the sight of the bloody knife clutched in his hands from your memory.

You blinked, and every thought melted away like ice on a hot summer day.

Jisung rounded on you, hurt flashing across his expression. "You're dating him and you didn't tell me? Didn't you just meet him on Saturday?"

"I'm not dating him!" you said in defense.

"But..." Jisung prompted.

"But nothing."

The new boy cleared his throat. "I thought the two of you were going on a date on Friday?"

The words held the delicate lilt of a question, but yet were as firm as a fact. You didn't know anything about this boy, not even his name, but you did know that you didn't like him. He rubbed you the wrong way, and he seemed to enjoy ruffling your feathers.

"Well, yes, but nothing's official—" you protested.

"You didn't even tell me!" Jisung was angry now, his cheeks puffing out and pinking with emotion.

"We were arguing! I didn't have time to tell you something as trivial as that."

"I would imagine that the fact that you're finally dating someone would be a priority instead of some stupid fight."

"I'm not dating anyone!"

Doors cracked open all over the hall and annoyed faces hissed at you to  _shut your mouth_ because  _it's seven in the morning_  and  _don't you know that some people don't have classes until later_  and  _can't the two of you argue someplace else_?

You brushed off the irritated grumblings and rude gestures as your vision zeroed in on your best friend. "You know I would've told you if I had been given a chance."

"Well, you had one, and you didn't," Jisung snapped. "First you agreed to a form of therapy without stopping to think about the very valid points I made because you're on your own little personal mission to destroy your life, and then you left without a word to ride off into the sunset with some guy you'd just met!"

"Don't forget that she hung up on you when you asked her to come back," the new boy supplied eagerly. Your distaste for him was growing by the second.

You glared. "Thanks for the addition," you said bitterly, acid dripping from your words.

"No problem."

"Did you just come here to point out that telling me significant things that happen in your life or did you actually need something?" Jisung fumed. You shook your head vigorously.

"I came here to pick up Hyunjin's things because he had a meeting, but then this, this  _dingus_ —" you pointed to the boy, who still leaned in his doorway with a small smirk— "came out of nowhere to ask if I'm the girl dating Seungmin—which I'm not—" Jisung scoffed— "and all I want to do is get Hyunjin's bag and get out of here!" The words left your lips in a wild, red torrent of emotion. Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away with a grimace.

"Is your friend—Hyun-whoever—in Student Council?" the stranger piped up, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow.

You threw an agitated glance in his direction. "Yes, now leave."

The boy raised his hands in defense. "Fine. I'm older than you, by the way, so speak a bit more diligently next time. And my name is Lee Minho, in case you were wondering." He directed the last sentence at Jisung. Minho ran a hand through his dark hair, disheveled with sleep. He continued, his eyes still focused on your best friend, "And your name is?"

"Jisung," Jisung offered, a wary glint in his eyes.

Minho smiled again, and your stomach twisted darkly at the Elysian-like aura permeating the air around him. "Lee Jisung. I'll remember that. And if you ever need help with anything at all, I'm always available... for you."

Jisung blushed.

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Minho winked.

It was going to be a long day.


	7. Chapter 7

You stood in line at Mugs & Kisses, the coffee shop Hyunjin had requested you get his vanilla bean latte from and the same one where you'd caught Seungmin ogling your chest. You fiddled with the smooth gold zipper on your suede laptop bag as you worried whether Jisung had managed to escape from Minho's wandering eyes.

It seemed all you did was worry lately.

The stress of the past few days had certainly not neglected to take a toll on your appearance: your dull hair was piled on your head in an effortless bun that showed signs of grease, the pallor of your face was grayish and dark under your eyes, and your cheekbones stood out starkly. Only the swipes of makeup you had deigned to brush across your features earlier and the sparse spritzes of dry shampoo identified you as human instead of zombie.

You shuffled forward the tiniest bit in line. The phone clutched in your unadorned fingers buzzed at you angrily, alerting everyone who stood close enough that you only had forty-five minutes until your first lecture. Your feet began to feel antsy, tapping on the hardwood that ran in patterns across the floor. You shifted to favor one leg, and then again to favor the other.  _Who is ordering enough coffees to fuel a small nation?_

You scrutinized the small shop around you, your dull interest sparked of boredom. Handcrafted pendants that swung from a hickory display column were advertised for five dollars apiece. The slick lacquer coating the mahogany tabletops shone in the natural light wafting in from the oversized windows. The chairs were formed in a peculiar fashion, as if they had been hewn right out of the side of the original tree.

Your eyes danced all around the space, pausing on intricate pieces of art on the walls, but somehow they always returned to the table you had sat at with Seungmin after your mutual appointment. The table was occupied now, but that didn't stop you from drinking in every detail and losing yourself to your thoughts.

A stranger wearing a pink pastel sweater tucked into ripped black skinny jeans drummed his fingers on his thigh. You tore your eyes away from the stranger to ravage the shop visually once more.

But of course, your gaze shot back like a boomerang and rested on the man sitting at The Table.

 _Not a man_ , you realized when he tilted his face into the light. He was more of a boy, with cheeks that startled you with the desire to poke them, eyes that seemed as if they would squeeze shut if he grinned too widely, and lips that were curved delicately into a quiet smile. His elbows propped themselves on the table in front of him, and he yawned. If you said his yawn wasn't the most adorable quaint one you'd ever seen, you'd be lying.

You recognized him vaguely; you recalled seeing him here before.

You were so entranced by said boy that you neglected to see the space cleared in front of you. An impatient cough behind you brought your attention back to the line of people, and you stepped forward accordingly. You mumbled a quick apology to the woman behind you, who smiled absentmindedly in acknowledgment.

When you looked back at the table, your eyes were met by the boy's dark ones. Embarrassed, you yanked your gaze to your feet and a red blush warmed your face. You were caught staring; you hoped he didn't read into the simple exchange of glances.

★彡

Felix was taking an eternity to order.

Jeongin sat back in his chair, people watching. The couple in the farthest, least illuminated corner kept sneaking kisses, and judging by their mischevious looks, they thought no one paid them any attention. He resisted a scoff and his eyes roved on. A bearded man in a track suit, a pregnant woman in a tacky orange shirt, and the endless horde of college students that haunted all the coffee shops within a two-mile radius of the university all had one thing in common: they were blind to Jeongin's scrutiny. No one noticed the college freshman in the corner; Jeongin preferred it that way.

Jeongin's eyes gave him access to his favorite sense, and every day he thanked the man upstairs for the blessing of perfect sight. He noticed so many little things in the world that he would have been oblivious to if not for his ability to see clearly, without the need for glasses. It was rare that he wished he could not see, and had only wished so twice. Once, when he walked into the bathroom in the home he grew up in and caught his grandmother changing clothes. And again, when he spotted an old friend exchanging a small bag filled with white powder with an older man with bloodshot eyes.

The small number ticked to three when the pretty girl he'd been eyeing for weeks caught him staring as she scanned the cafe. He dropped his eyes to the smooth tabletop as his cheeks burned with humiliation.  _She probably thinks I'm a creep._

Jeongin remembered the first time he'd seen the beautiful girl. It had been the first day he'd come to the city to move into his dorm with Minho, his sophomore friend. Minho had convinced his dad, who happened to be one of the overseers of Dorm Building G, to let him room with Jeongin. His only other freshman friends, Seungmin and Felix, were assigned to room with each other.

Jeongin had been sitting at this exact table, drinking the exact drink he ordered today, recovering from a long day of moving boxes and dividing the dorm space evenly between him and Minho. He'd been exhausted, and his tolerance for interaction had run dry. He had possessed barely enough energy to observe his surroundings and the people roaming about in them. And then  _she_ came in.

Well, more like crashed in.

She had been on a boy's back when the door flew open, her arms hooked around his neck, and her head thrown back as crazed laughter spilled from her lips. Her hair had been wild from who-knows-what but her makeup had been light and meticulous, and the boy carrying her had looked ready to collapse from laughter. Jeongin remembered the way she whined at the boy to put her down through giggly hiccups. He had tipped her until it seemed certain she was going to fall. Her shrieks echoed in Jeongin's ears still.

She had managed to free herself and snatched the wallet from the boy's pocket before he knew what was happening so she could bounce into line. Annoyed patrons had glared.

But Jeongin had smiled for the first time in hours.

Ever since, Jeongin watched for the pretty girl whenever he went to get coffee in the mornings with Felic and Seungmin, and occasionally, he'd manage to see her. But more often than not, he left the shop disappointed. He had searched for her on the university campus, and sometimes he swore he saw a flash of her hair or caught a hint of a familiar giggle.

Jeongin knew it was irrational to watch for her like he did when she very obviously had a boyfriend. He blamed hormones. Felix blamed true love.

But then, Felix had always been a hopeless romantic and Jeongin, however optimistic and bubbly his demeanor appeared, had always been skeptical of love. Infatuation existed, he was sure, but love?

Jeongin had seen enough dramas to warrant hesitance, but he couldn't help but wonder if he really did like this girl, despite not even knowing her name.

But now she had caught Jeongin staring and thought he was a creep.

The possibility of a future with her disappeared before Jeongin's eyes like a puff of smoke.

Felix pulled Jeongin out of his reverie when he plopped a tall cup in front of his friend. Jeongin smiled at Felix gratefully and stirred sugar and cream into his Americano.

Felix slipped the top off his coffee cup. Steam wafted into the air in white tendrils. Foam swirled across the dark surface and stuck to Felix's upper lip when he sipped at it. His tongue traced the circumference of his lips to wipe away traces of the pale bubbles.

Jeongin knew what Felix was going to ask before the other boy even opened his mouth to speak. "Is your girlfriend here?"

Jeongin sighed good-naturedly. "Yeah."

"Yes?" Felix repeated with a look of surprise. She had only ever been here at the same time as Felix once, and Felix had only been able to steal a glimpse of her back as she left. "Where?"

Jeongin shot a nervous look at the girl, who was still staring at her feet. He did his best to point inconspicuously. Felix followed his finger, squinting at a brown-haired woman. Felix furrowed his eyebrows. "The one in the orange shirt? She's... pretty, I guess. But she's pregnant and has a ring on her finger—"

Jeongin waved a hand in dismissal. "Not her, dummy. The girl in front of her."

"Who—" Felix cut himself off midsentence. The color drained from his face until his skin nearly blended in with the pale walls. "Her?" he choked out.

A dark curtain unfurled across Jeongin's features, his expression guarded. "Do you know her?"

Felix hesitated. Only for the slightest sliver of a moment, but Jeongin noticed. Of course he did. He noticed everything. "Uh, no. She's just so, uh, beautiful that I was surprised. She blinded me," Felix explained, his smile returning with forced enthusiasm.

Jeongin squinted at Felix suspiciously, but didn't question his friend. If Felix was hiding something, then he firmly believed that it was to protect someone. Jeongin let it slide. "Fine, but don't try to steal her from me." His eyes misted with a faraway look and then he said boldly, "I'm going to ask for her number one day, Hyung."

Felix nearly spat out his drink.

Coughing, he leaned forward to grab a napkin from the holder in the center of the table. "Wha—" he garbled. He flushed red as his hacking slowed. "What?"

Jeongin's eyebrows drew together. "I said I was going to ask for her number. Hyung, is everything all right?"

"Now?"

Jeongin shrugged, making a split-second decision. "No use in prolonging it, I suppose." He began to stand.

Felix's hand shot out, his fingers curling around Jeongin's wrist. "You said you thought she had a boyfriend, right? What about him?" The words were strung tightly together as they flew from Felix's lips; Jeongin jumped at the frantic notes.

"Um." Jeongin eyed the hand that had a vise-like grip on his wrist. "I suppose you're right," he said slowly, uncertain why Felix was acting like this.

Appearing satisfied, Felix slumped back in his chair, his shoulders going slack with relief. His eyes remained troubled. "I don't want to see you hurt," Felix explained, bringing his cup to his lips.

Jeongin smiled to mask his unease. "Of course."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's so short and that it took so long! 
> 
> ♥*♡∞:｡.｡Thanks for putting up with my sporadic updates ｡.｡:∞♡*♥
> 
> Sorry for making your eyes bleed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Sparky here.
> 
> I'm gonna be honest. I have next to no idea how Archive of Our Own works; I was referred to this website by a friend. This is my first fanfic on here, so please excuse any mistakes. I'm still trying to figure all this out.
> 
> Thank you so much for giving this fanfiction the time of day. Every kudo and comment means a ton. 
> 
> This story is also posted on Wattpad. Find it on my WP account @Queen_Sparklez.
> 
> Sorry for making your eyes bleed.


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